


Dean - 20

by phantisma



Series: Ages [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-05
Updated: 2006-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Dean's POV.  When Dean is 20, he wakes up in the psych ward with no memory of what landed him there.  And Sam expresses his need for his older brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean - 20

He was twenty years old when he woke up in restraints and no memory of how he’d gotten there. He breathed through the initial panic and looked around him. The room was familiar enough, small with nothing more in it than the gurney he was strapped to. He was in the hospital. He was safe. His wrists hurt, and he could just make out bandages under the leather restraints.

He could feel the edges of the drugs, the flat metallic taste on his tongue. He had no way to know how long it had been this time. He concentrated on calming himself, on remembering.

He had taken Sam to get his driver’s license, let him take the Impala with his buddies. He’d met up with Kaitlyn and went down to the church with her, waited while she helped the new priest out with his computer. They’d held hands as they left and headed downtown in her car to get supplies for their test the next day.

The door opened and he looked up. Dr. MacAfferty came into the room with two orderlies in tow. “Hello Dean.”

Dean took a deep breath and tried to keep the paranoia off his face. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t know. I…Kaitlyn dropped me off at Tony’s. I…Tony and I argued. I…” He grimaced as his head started aching with the effort to remember. “I left…”

She nodded. “Do you remember cutting yourself?”

Dean looked alarmed. “No…not in…almost a year…I haven’t.”

She shook her head lightly. He couldn’t read her expression. “Not like that Dean. Your wrists. You cut your wrists.”

“No. No. Why would I do that?” Dean pulled on them, trying to remember what he could have done. “I—no, I’d know…I’d remember that.”

“It isn’t the first time you’ve blacked out, Dean.”

He was panting now. “Let me up, I want to see for myself.”

She glanced at one of the men and he came close enough to undo the restraint. Dean pulled the hand up to his face, trying to see past the bandages before he got the other hand free. Once both were free, he sat up and ripped the bandages off. His left wrist bore a jagged cut, from about a half inch above his hand and up four or five inches. It was stitched together. The right wrist was cut as well, not as deep and even more jagged.

“I didn’t do this.” His voice was disbelief and panic. “I didn’t do this.”

“Then tell me why you were found outside your house, bleeding and covered in glass.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I don’t know.” His stomach flopped at the idea. He was seriously fucked up, but he’d never consider that. “Oh my god. Who? Who found me?” He had a brief image of Sam’s face, heard Sam’s voice.

“Your brother,” she confirmed and Dean let himself lay back down.

Sam. Dean closed his eyes and wished the drugs would pull him back under. There wasn’t anything he could do right for Sam anymore. “I—want to sleep. Please. Just…put me under again.”

“No Dean. Its time for you to start facing this. I’ve let you skirt it far too long.”

Dean covered his eyes with one arm, shook his head. More images flashed in his head. Black eyes staring at him out of a car window, his fists breaking through the glass. “I can’t. Not now.”

Her voice was firm, tinged with anger, something he’d never heard from her. “I’m cutting off your privileges until we talk about this Dean. Sam won’t be coming to see you, neither will Tony or Kaitlyn.”

“No.” Dean groaned and sat back up. She was serious, he could see it in her face. “Sam…I need to see him, make sure he’s okay.”

“Sam has his own therapist Dean. I’m sure he’s taking good care of your brother’s mental health.”

“What is it you want me to say?” Dean growled, then held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry…I…really don’t remember, and its not like I’m suicidal, so I don’t…I don’t understand.”

She nodded and touched his knee. “We’ll talk about that when I see you in the morning. For tonight, let’s get you settled into a real room, get some food into you. I have three hours blocked off for you in the morning, and we have you set up for group therapy in the afternoon with Dr. Rafael.”

Dean groaned. “And when can I see Sam?”

“Let’s see how tomorrow goes, okay?”

Dean nodded miserably, because really, he didn’t have any choice anyway.

 

“So, let’s start out simply, okay Dean? How are you feeling?”

Dean got comfortable in the chair beside hers, bending one knee up to his chest. “I’m…kind of nauseous, actually. Did you change my meds?”

She nodded. “Yes, we’re trying a new cocktail. I’m glad that you noticed.”

“Other than that…I’m still confused, irritated.” Truth was, he was angry. He’d been angry a lot lately.

“What about your relationships? How are things with the people in your life?”

Dean snorted. He wasn’t sure she really wanted the answer to that question. “Well, I have a father I haven’t even heard from in two years, a brother who probably hates me, a foster mother who hardly speaks to me and a foster sister with a crush on me. So…pretty screwed up.”

“What makes you think Sam hates you?”

He shrugged and tried to make it seem casual. “We fight. A lot. And now this. I know Sam. He’s pissed.”

She nodded and scribbled on her note pad. “He is angry, but he doesn’t hate you. He’s scared for you.”

“Yeah, he’s not alone.”

“What are you afraid of Dean?”

Dean brought his second leg up to join the first, trying to make himself small, invisible. “That I’m crazy. That Sam is right. That I’m doing things when I’m blacked out…that I’m going to hurt someone and not even know it.”

He left a lot unsaid. He had terrors, that stole up on him unexpectedly and froze him to the spot. There were times he looked at Sam and saw evil behind the green in his eyes. There were times when he thought about doing terrible things to the people he loved. There were times when he feared himself.

“So you and Janet still aren’t getting along?”

Dean shifted. This was always a sore topic. Since he’d ended their physical relationship, she’d been cold, withdrawn. She only let him keep living there because of Sam…and if Sam was done with him, Dean knew she wouldn’t hesitate to throw him out.

“It isn’t so much that we aren’t getting along. We just don’t…talk. She resents me.”

“What does she resent, Dean?”

He shrugged. “That Sam has always needed me more than her, I guess.” He stood up to pace. “She hasn’t forgiven me for…ending things.”

“You mean the inappropriate sexual relationship?”

Dean made a face and held his hands out. “Yeah. God. I so don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Are you invoking your privilege?”

He turned to look at her, knowing she would love to see him use it so early in the session. It would give her free reign to dig into the things he really didn’t want to talk about. He shook his head. “No…it’s done. That’s all. I’ve gotten past it. I just wish she would.”

MacAfferty nodded and squinted at him. “Okay. I’ll let you pick then. Sam or Jenny?”

“Jenny’s easier,” he said, pacing away. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “She’s sixteen. She sees Sam like a brother. I’m more…I don’t know…I mean, her father died when she was still pretty young. I’ve been the primary male influence in her life. I suppose its normal.”

He could almost feel her smile. “Aren’t you the one who told me you wouldn’t know what was normal if you tripped over it?”

He chuckled. “Psych classes.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Dean rolled his eyes and wished there were pockets in the flimsy cotton pajama pants the hospital insisted he wear. “I have a girlfriend, and she’s like a sister, so yeah. Uncomfortable.”

“How are you handling it?”

He sighed and paced back toward her. “I try not to be alone with her.”

“What does Sam think about it?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, we fight a lot lately. We don’t really talk about stuff. He’s…” He shook his head, trying to place the feeling that had been plaguing him when he was with Sam the last few months. He moved over by the low table adorned with pictures of her kids, her patients, pets…his hand found the one of him and Sam easily. “Have you ever had the feeling that you were forgetting something…something really important, like life or death important? And nothing you can do will make it come to you?” He ran a thumb over Sam’s young face. “It’s like that. Whenever I look at him, I feel like we’re forgetting something…something really important.”

“But you don’t know what it is?”

Dean shook his head and put the picture back. “No…and I think he blames me for that. Silly, isn’t it?” He sighed and played with the bandages on his wrist. “If I don’t know what it is, and he doesn’t know…how can he blame me?”

 

It was five days before she let Sam visit, and two more before he actually did. Dean looked up from his book in the lounge and there he was, hands in his pockets, tentative smile on his face. Dean nodded and put the book down and they walked to his room in silence. Sam dropped a back pack on the bed. “I thought you’d want some stuff.”

“Thanks.” Dean toyed with the strap, then cleared his throat. “Sit down.” He gestured to the guest chair and hitched his hip up onto the bed. Sam looked like he might run instead for a minute then sank down into the chair, his legs stretching out in front of him.

The quiet between them stretched to fill the space. They didn’t look at each other, just sat, staring.

“I—how—“ Dean exhaled slowly. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Yeah.” Sam frowned, his eyes on his own lap, his face screwed up in an expression of pain. “It’s awkward.”

“Yeah.” Dean picked at the thin blanket under him. “How is Jenny?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn’t look up. “Drama Queen. Jason Roland asked her to prom.”

“Prom? She’s a junior.”

Sam snorted. “A very pretty junior who doesn’t have a boyfriend only because every boy in school is afraid of you.”

“Me?”

Sam laughed, a real laugh. Dean felt himself warm inside at the sound. “Yeah, you. Anyway, apparently Jason and Diedre broke up last week, and there are no more senior girls to ask.”

“Is she going?”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know. She wasn’t able to talk much past the squealing that he’d asked.”

They were quiet again for a minute, then Sam shifted and looked up. “How about you? You…okay?”

Dean inhaled and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. New meds seem to be…better…I feel like I have better control.”

“What happened, Dean?” Sam looked away again, that expression back. “I mean…I came home and you…you were just laying there…and there was blood…I thought…I thought I’d really lost you this time.”

“I wish I knew, Sam. Really. I don’t know.”

Sam nodded, as if accepting the answer, then got up to pace. “I saw Dad.” He said suddenly, his back to Dean.

“You what?”

He sighed and walked to the door and back. “It isn’t the first time. Yesterday. It’s why I didn’t come to see you. I saw him and…followed him.”

Dean frowned at him, crossing his arms as he tried to assimilate the information. “Follow him where? What was he up to?”

Again Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. He was just…standing in the parking lot. I followed him to a motel down the street. He doesn’t seem to be on a hunt. He’s just…watching.”

Dean shivered as if something cold and wet had passed through him. Sam looked at him funny. “What?”

“Don’t know…just weird.”

“Anyway, he left town last night.” Sam flopped back into the chair. “So how long you figure MacAfferty is going to keep you in here?”

“At least another week. She isn’t convinced I didn’t do this myself.”

Sam frowned. “She’s your shrink, dude. She should know you better than that by now.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You…what? You believe me?”

Sam sat forward, his big hands dangling off his knees. “I never once thought you did it yourself, Dean. I thought…hell, I don’t know what I thought….but not that.”

“Good.” Somehow it wasn’t as reassuring as he’d wanted it to be. “So tell me about you. How…” He didn’t want to ask the question wrong and have Sam clam up on him. It had been his choice to go into therapy, work on his anger and issues…Dean didn’t ever ask, didn’t ever pry.

“Good, Dean. I’ve gotten a lot of stuff straightened out. I’m still…you know, working on it…but…” He sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I’m graduating in a few weeks.”

“I know…it’s hard to believe.” Always the bright one, his Sam. Top of his class, despite being the youngest. Somehow he’d managed to cram four years of high school into three. “I’m very proud of you, Sammy.”

Sam smiled. “It’s Sam. And thank you. I really want you to be there, Dean.”

“I will be, don’t worry.”

Sam’s smile faded and Dean knew the look on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, it can wait.”

“No, tell me.”

“Dean.”

“You’re hiding something.”

Sam sighed and got up again, moving to the window. There wasn’t much to see. Other buildings, the tiny courtyard where doctors and nurses drank their coffee… “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said in a very small voice.

“Sam.” Dean knew this was something big, like he’d wrecked the Impala big.

“I…well, I’ve been applying to colleges, you know?”

Dean nodded and waited. “I got into some really good schools Dean.” He turned from the window, a half smile on his face, then turned back. “Really good schools. I never thought…but…damn this is harder than I thought.”

With a deep breath he turned from the window to look at his brother. “I’ve been accepted at Stanford, with a full scholarship, Dean.”

“Stanford? That’s where? California?” No. No. No. Dean tamped down the panic threatening to push through his chest and into the room. No. No. No. Sam couldn’t leave him. _Wouldn’t_ leave him.

“Yeah, Palo Alto, near San Jose.” Sam answered. He was watching Dean closely.

Dean’s breathed carefully, gathering himself to ask…but in the end he didn’t have to. Sam dropped his gaze. “I’m going, Dean. In September, I’m leaving and going to Stanford.”

Leaving. Leaving. After everything…because of everything. Because Dean wasn’t able to protect him anymore. Because Dean fucked everything up. “Sam…I…” Breathe damn it, breathe and make like it’s good, like it’s okay. Make it okay. Say something. “I’m impressed.”

Sam let out the breath he’d been holding and sagged a little. “You aren’t angry?”

Dean shook his head. “No, Sam. It’s a good thing, right? You’ve earned it. You deserve it.” His entire insides were shivering, quivering, ready to break, but he didn’t let any of it show on his face.

“I was worried…I mean…we’ve never…and…”

Dean forced a smile and hoped it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “I was the one who promised I would never leave you, Sammy. I never expected that you would stay forever.”

“Its not like I won’t be back. You know, vacations and everything.”

“Yeah, Sam. Don’t sweat it. College will be good for you.”

They were quiet again for a few minutes then Sam gestured at his bag. “Kaitlyn gave me some of the study materials you’ll need when you head back. She’s got them holding your spot open. You’ll have to make up the practical stuff, but that shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

Sam glanced at his watch, then toward the window. “Dude, am I keeping you from a hot date?”

A sheepish smile sprang up on his face and he looked away. “With who?”

“Shelby Moss.”

“Nice. Get out of here then. Go make yourself beautiful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re good?”

Dean nodded. “Good.” His heart was broken and his Sammy was leaving him and he was going to be alone…but they were good…or he could pretend he was for his brother’s sake.

 

“So let’s talk about Tony.”

Dean groaned and turned away, padding on his bare feet away from MacAfferty. “What about him?”

“What’s your relationship with him like these days?”

He chuckled and turned to look at her. “I don’t have a relationship with Tony,” he said evenly. “No one has a relationship with Tony. Tony is…Tony.”

“You’re friends, aren’t you?”

Dean shook his head, leaning against her desk. “No. Friends hang out together, go to movies, shit like that. What Tony and I do…it isn’t friendship.” He sighed and crossed his arms. “Tony is a pressure valve. We run, we push each other, we fight. When none of that is enough, we fuck.”

“That’s an interesting way to say it.”

“Not really.” Dean said. “I’m too tired for interesting. It is what it is. It serves a purpose.”

“Do you think that’s a healthy thing?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it. I don’t think much about him either, really….Only when I need him.” He sighed. “Or sometimes when he needs me…”

“Are you still letting him hurt you?”

He made a face and paced. “No cutting…if that’s what you mean.”

“You know what I mean Dean.”

He looked at her and shook his head. “He’s rough. I like it.”

“What about Kaitlyn?”

He stopped near his chair and sank into it. “Kaitlyn is…special.”

“Does she know about Tony?”

Dean turned red and shook his head. “She thinks we’re friends. I’ve never told her.”

“How are things with Kaitlyn?”

Dean smiled and lowered his eyes. “She came by yesterday and brought me pastries the class made for me. She makes me very happy.”

“You seem to argue with most of the people in your life these days, Dean. Do you and Kaitlyn argue?”

“Only over who gets to do the cooking.” Dean chuckled. “I’ve never known anyone like her.”

“What about sex?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re taking things slow. We’ve both made mistakes before, and we want to not make mistakes again.”

“That’s good. Very responsible.”

“I just…don’t want to screw it up, you know? She’s too important.”

“In what way?”

Dean didn’t quite meet her eyes. “We’ve talked about…you know…the future.”

“Do you mean marriage Dean?”

He smiled and blushed, but shrugged. “Not in those exact words…but…yeah.”

“Are either of you ready for that?”

“Don’t know. That’s why we’re going slow.”

She smiled and stood up, taking her note pad back behind her desk. “I think you’re ready to go home Dean, but we’ll go back to weekly visits for a while to make sure the meds are working for you.”

“Really?” Dean tried not to sound over eager, but his smile was wide as she nodded.

“Tomorrow. I’ve already called Janet. Someone will be by to get you around noon.”

 

 

It wasn’t the greatest of homecomings. Sam picked him up in the Impala. When they got to the house, Jenny was too caught up in trying on prom hairstyles with her two best friends to do more than kiss his cheek in passing. Janet gave him dirty looks and retreated to the kitchen.

Dean collapsed onto his bed and sighed. “I’m so glad to have a real bed again,” he muttered. Sam laughed and tossed his bag in the corner.

“You should call Kaitlyn. She wanted to be the one to come get you, but her father needed her at the restaurant.

“Yeah, okay.”

“And Tony was looking for you…but I told him…” Sam shook his head. “I told him you’d call him tomorrow after you were settled in.”

“What is it you have against him?”

Sam put his hands on his hips. “What is it you see in him? He’s…bad news, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah…he is that, Sammy. Maybe I just like bad boys.”

Sam looked even angrier at that. “What?” He closed the door and stalked across to the bed. “How can you joke about it like that?”

Dean sat up and looked at Sam, trying to figure out what it was that had made him so angry. “Sam?”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like for me Dean? To see you…to see you come back with bruises and know?”

Sam’s face was flushed and his green eyes looked away. “Sam, are you okay?”

He sank onto the bed, inches from Dean. “No. No, Dean. I’m not okay. I—God this is so wrong. I swore I’d never tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Dean reached for his hand, but Sam pulled it away. “Sam?”

“You’ll hate me. I mean, more than you must already.”

“I don’t hate you Sam. I love you. I’d do anything for you. Anything.”

“Anything?” Sam looked up, tears in his eyes. “Do you mean that?”

Dean smiled and this time Sam let him capture his hand. “You know I do Sam. Anything.”

Sam nodded, but his face was still doubtful, his eyes on the space between their knees. “I have dreams. The nights you’re with Tony. I dream about what he does to you.”

Dean sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything, didn’t move. “I dream about him touching you…and I…want…” Sam’s big thumb moved over Dean’s hand, across the back of his wrist. His eyes fluttered closed. “I want it to be me.” His words were so soft, Dean wasn’t sure he’d heard them. “It’s sick, I know. I—I don’t even expect you to want to be in the same room with me now….I just…god Dean, watching you go to him like that…knowing why…knowing and wanting…and fuck.” He pulled his hand away and stood.

“Sam—“

“No…just…don’t say anything. Don’t.” Dean got up and followed him.

“Sam, please.” Dean stopped him, turned him around to face him.

Sam pulled a hand through his hair, and his face went from wounded and open to angry and closed in a heartbeat. “What? Are you the only one allowed to be a sexual deviant in this family?”

“Stop.” Dean closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he was feeling, why he was vaguely aroused by his brother’s anger, with his admission. It **was** wrong, twisted…it was incest, far more than the thing with Janet could ever be considered. “Is this why we’ve been fighting so much? Because of this?”

Sam tried to pull away, but Dean held him. “Sam?”

“Dean…please…”

“Please what Sam? Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“Dean.” Sam groaned it and the sound ate through Dean, sinking through his stomach and into his groin.

“Anything you want, Sammy…anything.” Dean whispered, stepping closer. Dean closed his eyes, moved his hands up to Sam’s face. “Tell me.”

Sam’s breathing was erratic, his body stiff. Dean inched closer, tilting his face up, brushing his lips over Sam’s. Sam drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Dean waited, scarcely moved. He could do this…would do this…if it meant keeping Sam with him…if it meant Sam would stay.

“Dean.” Sam whispered it against his lips. “I want you…I want…” He pressed his lips against Dean’s, bruising, hungry…not at all unlike the way Tony kissed him. Dean let his lips open, inviting his brother’s tongue and after only the slightest hesitation, Sam dipped the tip of his tongue inside. Dean snaked a hand behind Sam’s neck, pulling him closer.

“Anything Sammy.” Dean whispered. He let his other hand slip down to cup Sam’s groin, only half surprised to find him hardening. “Show me.”

Sam growled and suddenly Dean felt himself backed up, into the wall, Sam’s lean body pressed up against his. “This.” Sam pushed him again and Dean could feel his head ringing. “I want this.”

Sam’s big hands pushed at Dean’s clothes, ripping his shirt as he tried to get it off of him. Once Dean’s chest was bare, Sam was back on top of him his tongue pushing past Dean’s slack lips to plunder his mouth. His hand fisted in the back of Dean’s hair and held his head tight. “I want to fuck you Dean. I want to bend you over and stick my dick up your ass.”

Dean was hard, just like that, all thought of _wrong_ and _brother_ gone from his head. “Anything for you…anything.”

“Fuck.” Sam started to pull away, but Dean didn’t let him, reaching for Sam’s belt. He had his hand inside Sam’s jeans, stroking him. Sam’s head fell back and he moved his hips into Dean’s stroke before he pulled back, his own hands shoving at Dean’s pants. “Now.”

Dean pulled them down, and Sam pushed him face first onto the bed. Dean started to reach for the nightstand and the lube, but Sam’s hands were roughly tugging on his hips. “Sam.”

Sam’s answer was a dry finger, shoved inside him and Dean grunted. Okay, so it was going to be that kind of fuck. Not like he’d never done that before. “That’s it…give me more.” Dean said, pushing back against him. Sam slipped a second finger inside him and Dean was suddenly struck by the fact that Sam had obviously done this before. It both aroused him and angered him at the same time. “Come on baby…give me more…”

Sam growled and shoved a third finger inside him, stroking him almost violently. “Want it Sam…want to feel you…” The fingers withdrew and almost immediately Dean could feel the head of his brother’s cock. They moaned together as Sam forced his thick cock inside of Dean. He was bigger than Tony, thicker, longer…and Dean’s cock was throbbing. He reached under himself for his cock, but Sam grabbed his hand and pulled it up around behind his back.

“No…not yet.” Sam’s other hand was on Dean’s hip, his fingers digging into his flesh. “You like when it hurts…don’t you Dean? You like the bruises…” He fucked into Dean harder, dragging Dean’s dry cock across the comforter.

“Yeah, Sammy…hard…I like it hard…” Dean breathed. Sam twisted the arm a little harder and Dean saw stars. Some part of him was babbling… _now, more, wrong, Sam, fuck, harder, hurt me, wrong, Sam_ and fuck, but he was so ready to come…and it was better, stronger…more than Tony had ever given him, because it was Sam…his baby brother. “Fuck…Sam…I can’t…”

Sam pulled on his arm, his fingers pressing into the skin and he slammed into Dean, and he felt the hot, sticky come fill him. It was all it took and Dean was coming himself into the comforter.

Sam pulled out and Dean could hear his zipper. It was quiet for a long minute, then Sam spoke, his voice almost cold. “For fuck’s sake, do something Dean.”

Dean nodded and sat up, pulling his pants back up and straightening himself out. He stood up, turning to Sam, who turned away. “Hey. Hey.” Dean reached for him, but he pulled away.

“I swore I wouldn’t….Dean I’m sorry….god, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop. Sam. It’s okay. I’m okay. You…you were good….you…”

“I fucked you Dean. My brother. I’m a fucking pervert.”

Dean did catch him on the second try and pulled him close. “I love you. I want you. I never…I never want to hear you question that.”

There were tears in his eyes when Sam finally looked up. “It’s just wrong Dean.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, Sammy, it likely is…but some of the best things in life are wrong.”

“You’re a fucking pervert too.”

“See, we’re made for each other.” Dean said, kissing him quickly. He cupped Sam’s cheek with one hand. “Anything for you Sam. I’ll never deny you what you need.”

Sam just nodded, then glanced at the clock. “I—gotta go. I’m meeting the debate team for a last run before the big meet this week.”

“Have fun.” Dean watched him go, then sank to the bed. He could feel the come in his ass, oozing out slowly. Sam’s come. His baby brother’s come. He had never thought of Sam like that…never would have…but…but…he sighed and shifted, remembering the fullness as Sam first sank into him. It should feel…he wasn’t sure exactly what it should feel like, actually…but he knew what it did feel like. It felt like Sam.


End file.
